Blame, Fault, Harm
by KJL
Summary: AU. Lindsay and Danny are not part of the team, and have known each other since they were younger. Lindsay gets out of college, becomes a sex-buddy with her high-school sweetheart, Danny, and everything rolls on from there. Warning: religion, sex, abuse.


A/N: It's my first CSI: NY story, so please be nice. I don't think Flack or Mac is too much ooc. This started as just a fic about me, but then I decided to introduce Mac and Flack into it and then Stella, and Danny/Lindsay, so.... it's fun! It's a little bit emo, and it's only a one-shot kinda thing, but I just loved this idea. Enjoy!

* * *

After finishing, we're lying there on his bed, in the broken little bachelor pad, with the light streaming in the window on the other wall, and not quite reaching me. I'm glad for it, because to me, light's always meant God. And I don't want to think about God now. I don't have the strength to break this little chain of events, and I know this isn't what God would want for me. And I really don't want to think about God with Danny lying here next to me. The lofty have definitely fallen, the Catholic good girl sleeping with the atheist every night, without real love, comfort, support, or happiness. Bleak picture, right? Too bad it's my life.

"What are you thinking about?" He turns towards me, apparently noticing I've been holding my breath, waiting for the right moment to leave.

To cover up my little prayer for salvation, I say, "Just thinking about back when we were teenagers. How you always used to call me a whore, back when I was a virgin, and I hadn't even had my first kiss. And now that we're just in this fuck-buddy stalemate, you never call me one." It's a broad hint, but it's the only kind Danny will take anymore, being doped up or drunk most nights when he comes home. I guess I could do all-night sessions with other guys, help pay the rent, but I don't want to pull myself any closer to Hell than I already have.

There it is. The sharp intake of breath. The one he takes before he's going to try to be deep and understanding, and act like he gives a fuck what I think or care about anymore.

"Linds.... I love you." He tries to wrap me in his arms, like I'm one of his little whores from before, and if he offers to hold me, I'll forget everything else. I dodge, get up, and go into the bathroom to avoid having to reply. Because I know I'll say "I love you too." As much as I want to scream "you don't love me, you're not sorry, I'm not your babe or dear and I'm not willing to be your little fuck-buddy anymore," I know that's not what I'll actually say. I don't have that courage.

It's not that Danny would hurt me. At least, not unless he was high or drunk. When he's sober, he can be gentle enough. But he's an empty shell of the guy I fell in love with, so empty I can't even tell what he's thinking, or what he's capable of.

He knocks on the door. My heart stops. "What?" I get up, wipe my face as best I can, and start dressing in something that'll cover the bruises.

"Going out. Be back tonight. Be here when I am." The classic version of abused, abuser, right? I have to get permission to leave the house. Except the abused usually don't realize they're being brainwashed. I'm not brainwashed. I'm in full control of myself... unless Danny's around. I know what he's doing to me, and all I have to do is figure out how to get out.

"Okay," I say semi-cheerily. The fake smile helps my cover, I guess. Even though he can't see.

I wait until I hear him walk out, then peek out the door to make sure he actually left and this isn't another of his damn tests. He's gone.

I test the warm fall air. I walk into the police station, because right now, my feet are leading the way, and in essence, God is too.

"Hello?" The receptionist stares at me suspiciously, and I put on my bright smile, and say, "If possible... is Detective Taylor available?" I finish the question differently than how I started, but whatever. I know Detective Taylor, he helped my brother out of a tough jam a few years ago, and his name's been in the back of my mind recently. If anyone can help me, it'll be Mac Taylor, and probably Don Flack. He'll cover my case, because I'm not really an issue for the CSI team, just for the NYPD.

"You're in luck," the receptionist smiles falsely, "he just got out of a meeting."

I talk to Mac in the interrogation room, just like I did back when I had to help bail Joe out.

"So, Miss Munroe... or is it Messer now?" Mac also has a habit of trailing off.

"Actually, Detective, that's what I came to talk to you about."

He notes the look in my eyes, the long sweater I'm wearing though it's still summer weather, and puts two and two together. "Abuse?"

"I'm not sure... I accepted the offer to stay at his place, I gave him my body, but now... I can't get out. As much as I'd love to shove him off and run, I can't do it alone, Detective." I had more to tell him, but he cut me off.

"Mac, Lindsay. Mac. I've known you since you were 13. You're like a kid sister I've watched slip through the cracks. There's no need to use my title."

I give him a look. "Are you finished?" I can't help it. I don't want to alienate the one who'll help, but I also don't like the sound of "slipped through the cracks." I cross my arms, trying to combat the shivering.

"Look, Linds, if there's no crime scene, all I can do is tell Don."

"That's enough. I just... need someone to keep him from chasing me when I leave."

"How soon do I need to get a hold of him?"

"How soon do you want me away from Dan?" I counter with my own question, and Mac nods, grabs the phone, and dials.

* * *

"Flack," Don answers the phone on his end.

"Don, abuse case. I need you to go grab the boyfriend and put his ass somewhere he can't get out."

"Give me details."

"Fine, but I warn you... you know the couple involved."

"How well?"

Mac hesitates, which Flack knows is never good. "Remember the Munroe case?"

"Wait, him again? I thought he was a good kid and we got him off."

"No, not Joe. Lindsay."

Mac hears Flack swear under his breath. "Isn't she in college?"

"Just finished last year. Hooked up with her high-school love, who's turned into a doped, drunk asshole." It surprised Flack how bitter the usually emotionless Mac sounded.

"What's the address?"

"1113 Madison."

"Is she home?"

"No, she's with me." Don hears Mac set the phone down. "Is Dan home?" Flack hears, but knows the question isn't for him. Mac must've gotten an answer, because he comes back on the line. "He'll be home by 11. Flack, I'm calling in that favor. I want this guy off the streets and out of her hair."

"Believe me, I'd do it anyway. Keep that favor, Mac. There might be better uses for it."

"I doubt it, but if you want to give me another chance to manipulate you, go ahead." Flack hears the smile in his voice.

"Whatever. I'll get the asshole."

"Hey, Flack... send Stella back to the lab, when she's done, will you? She's the only girl currently in, and you know how the abuse cases are...." I roll my eyes. I can talk to a guy about being raped as easily as I could Stella. But I love Stella, so I'll keep quiet.

* * *

"Linds?" Stella's eyes light up for a moment, then she remembers the case Mac briefed her on. "Man, you don't get any breaks, do you?"

"All I can do is pray I don't go to Hell."

"Hey, look at me." I follow her order. "You moved in with the guy. That doesn't mean you're obligated to be beaten."

I look away. I haven't cried since this morning, and there's no real need to now.

"So, you going to tell me the story?"

I nod, and repeat everything I've had running through my mind for six weeks....

* * *

"Take one more step, dude. I dare you." Flack holds his breath. The guy reeks, of alcohol and, of course, weed. He puts the gun up to the back of his head. "Hands up."

"What the hell for?" Dan asks, although he follows instructions.

"Domestic abuse." Flack grabs his hands, handcuffs him as roughly as possible, and elbows him in the back for good measure. "Or, in layman's terms, beating up the closest thing I have to a NICE kid sister."

"How was I supposed to know she had family in the police," Dan grunts, trying to move to a semi-comfortable position, which he KNOWS isn't possible in handcuffs.

"You were supposed to know that by having a RELATIONSHIP, bud. Instead of using her for sex and trying to trap her in your apartment, and getting pissed off when you found out she'd left." Flack throws him into the car, shuts the door, and claps his hands. He climbs in the front, and then continues berating Dan. "If you weren't so doped, I'd enjoy hanging it all over your head. But you won't remember it, so I'll wait."

"Is that a threat?" Dan knows the legal system... kind of.

"No, it's a promise." Flack smirks.


End file.
